


Connor Backpack

by Sharcade



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Collection of short stories, Comfort, Cute, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-06 03:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharcade/pseuds/Sharcade
Summary: String cheese, juice boxes, 3D puzzles, fidget toys, wet wipes, logic toys, washable markers, stuffed animal keychains, quarters, bandaids, snacks, stickers, hand sanitizer, books, spare clothes, and fruit gummies. That's basically everything that made up the Connor Backpack, and as heavy as it got, Hank always carried it.





	1. String Cheese

Connor was a deviant.

At first, Hank had assumed that Connor would be mostly the same person: Cold, adaptive, analytical, imposing. After all, how much could he truly change over something as quick as deviancy? Apparently, the answer was  _absolutely completely,_ because the Connor that Hank had been stuck with couldn't intimidate Hank if he had a gun to Hank's head. When Connor had been given the chance to finally live freely, he hadn't known what to do with himself. Everything had felt new and amazing, each new experience absolutely thrilling, there was so much to explore and Connor had his entire life to explore it. Hank had expected that Connor's fascination with life and the world would have driven him away from Detroit, would have driven him away from the precinct, would have driven him away from  _Hank._ He had expected Connor's overwhelming curiosity would lead him to explore. He had expected wrong.

Connor had approached Hank at the precinct about three weeks after becoming a deviant. Not much had really changed. Connor had certainly been more social, more  _curious_ , always asking Hank questions in a way that almost seemed to mimic childlike wonder. It was refreshing, Hank had missed having that kind of a person in his life, it had been a long time since he had been around that kind of energy. Connor had been like a spark of light to him, something new but familiar, something he had missed dearly. That being said, when Connor had approached him, something had immediately seemed off.

His hunch was right, as it turned out, because Connor had asked him quite hesitantly if Hank would be open to the idea of Connor moving in with him. It had taken a few minutes of ruthless prodding before Hank had gotten Connor to admit that he had actually just been sleeping in random places in Detroit for the past three weeks, a fact that had Hank scolding Connor for a solid ten minutes as Connor frantically explained that he was in no real danger as long as he was armed. Hank had taken him in quickly under the guise of simply not wanting Connor to be homeless, but in actually, he was actually fairly happy that Connor had made the request. It would be nice to have Connor around the house.

And after several months of Connor living with him, Hank remained adamant; having Connor live with him was an adventure that he was enjoying. The two of them were figuring out what kind of person Connor was  _together,_ and it was  _exciting._ Hank had never thought he would have an experience like this, they were basically discovering a whole new person in Connor, and Hank couldn't be happier with it. In a sense, Connor had become a sort of son to him, as reluctant as he was to admit it. He couldn't help it, he had gotten attached, despite his better knowledge that Connor was nothing more than a machine. In honesty, sometimes it would slip Hank's mind that Connor wasn't human. Did it really matter anyway?

Investigations with Connor had proven to be a little more challenging since his deviancy. He was less focused, more easily startled,  _much_ more easily unsettled, or maybe none of those things were true and Hank was only noticing it now that Connor was more expressive. Hank wondered if blood and gore had always disturbed Connor and the android had simply kept silent about it. It wouldn't have shocked him, Connor had always been the fairly stoic type up until as of late. He imagined it had something to do with Connor understanding the concept of death more intensely now. However, it didn't really matter in his mind, as long as Connor was able to comfortably conduct an investigation, he didn't see the problem.

The only  _real_ problem was that Connor  _couldn't_ always comfortably conduct an investigation, and that's where Hank had come up with a solution. Connor Backpack. Connor Backpack was fully equipped with anything and everything Connor could possibly need to stay happy on an investigation: before, during, and after. Hank had it down to a science, adding and removing things as needed over the months to hone the backpack down to perfect essentials. In action, it was marvelous. The only lacking feature was that Connor had been more than eager to decorate it, leaving it reflective and colourful, jingling with keychains and completely contrary to Hank's image. It stood out slightly at murder scenes.

Connor and Hank had  _both_ become attached to the backpack, it was useful. One thing they had both learned fairly quickly is that Connor had sensory issues. Overwhelming situations were common: large crowds, frantic atmospheres, anything that would throw Connor majorly off his focus. At first, Connor had been incredibly secretive about such issues, insisting he was perfectly fine despite the tremors Hank could see in his hands. It had taken a few particularly bad episodes for Connor to finally ask Hank about solutions of sorts, and Hank had been quick with them. It was really the only reason he let Connor attach so many keychains to the backpack.

It had led to one of the backpack's first modifications: The addition of spring lanyards. Hank was always the one wearing the backpack, that's just how it had always been, so it was common for Connor to trail close behind him and toy with the keychains when he needed to. Hank had no problem with that, but it meant that Connor was  _very_ close, and keeping a hold on the keychains was often awkward with the short chains. It had been a welcome surprise when Hank had splurged on a few spring lanyards, allowing Connor a couple feet of space between himself and Hank to toy with the keychains. It had made Connor happy, and that's what was important to Hank, so the lanyards had been the first of many new additions to Connor Backpack.

Today, the backpack was being put to use.

"It looks like the suspect..." Connor paused, trailing off as his eyes moved across the floor, his brow furrowing. "...exited through the front door. If the rest of the evidence is anything to go by, they may have left fingerprints on the doorknob."

"Alright, so we're done?" Hank mused, looking over the doorknob. "Got everything we need?"

"Correct."

Hank glanced over at Connor. The android looked fairly calm, and any other officer would have simply returned to the precinct with him and parted ways. It was only Hank's eyes that could see the way Connor toyed with his tie clip anxiously, only Hank's eyes that could see the way Connor's eyes were fixed on the pool of blood and graphic viscera on the kitchen floor of the building they had been investigating.

"Hey, let's head outside." Hank suggested, slinging Connor Backpack over his shoulder as he passed Connor, heading for the exit.

"Affirmative, Lieutenant." 

Hank didn't look back, but he was well aware that Connor was trailing behind him, the slight tug on his backpack a dead giveaway. Connor had a keychain.

Once they were outside, Hank slowed down a bit, giving Connor some time to enjoy the breathing room before they got back into the car. Connor liked the outdoors, something he and Hank had found out a long time ago, and Connor's constant desires to be outside and to be around Hank meant that Hank was out of the house and walking through forests more than he would have expected at this age. Albeit, it had helped distract him from some particularly bad habits, so he wasn't about to complain. Connor's impact on his life had been a rough adjustment at first, but it almost felt like this was just how things were meant to be, like everything was always supposed to turn out this way. It felt warm, it felt right.

"Lieutenant," Connor started, keeping his eyes on his keychain as he paced along behind the detective. "Do we have any-"

"Front pocket."

Connor nodded quickly, moving closer to Hank as he fumbled with the backpack's clunky zippers. He unzipped the pocket, taking a small package of string cheese out before zipping up the backpack once again. Hank was well aware that Connor didn't need to eat, they both were, but Connor seemed to have more fun peeling the cheese apart into little strings than actually eating it. Hank couldn't help but find it childishly endearing. 

"We did some damn good work today," Hank yawned, adjusting the backpack straps. "Nice job."

"Thank you very much, Lieutenant. Your work was exceptional as well."

Hank chuckled quietly under his breath, Connor raising an eyebrow as he continued pulling apart his cheese. He took a small bite of one of his strings, choosing to ignore the fact that he would probably have to expectorate it later anyway. 

"You're really somethin' unique, kid."

"Appreciated, Lieutenant."


	2. Juiceboxes

"They're called  _cirrus clouds,_ and they're the most common form of high level clouds. They're typically found at heights greater than 20,000 feet, and they're composed of ice crystals that-"

Hank was not listening, not even slightly. He couldn't be less interested, yet sometimes it was easier to just let Connor burn himself out than to try to get him to shut up. Albeit, Connor had been talking about clouds for a solid twenty minutes now, and Hank often found that if he let Connor drone on for too long, he would end up accidentally learning something. Learning was for nerds, and Hank had no interest.

"Ay. Connor." Hank interrupted, effectively silencing the android, who raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. "Can you reach the backpack in the back seat?"

"Of course." Connor assured, reaching back and picking up the heavy back, dropping it in his lap. "Do you need something?"

"Middle pocket, bottom left. It's on an ice pack."

Connor rummaged curiously through the bag before finally pulling out a cold juicebox, eyes widening slightly in excitement before he quickly regained his stoic nature. Connor offered a quick nod to Hank before zipping up the backpack once again, placing it in the back seat. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Anything to shut you the hell up once in a while."

"It is still appreciated." Connor stated, poking the straw into his juicebox and drinking it contently. 

The car was quiet for a few moments longer, Hank driving along as Connor drank his juice, distracting himself with anything he could see out the window. Mostly clouds, but he didn't bother describing their names and makeups to Hank, despite the fact that it may potentially gain him another juicebox. 

"Hey Lieutenant?" he finally spoke, toying with his straw lightly. 

"What's up?"

"Who was the first French astronaut?"

"Jean-Loup Chrétien, to the Salyut 7 space station."

"So you  _do_ listen when I talk!" Connor exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat as he turned to Hank. 

"Wh- Oh. Shit. Guess I fuckin' do."

"You're learning valuable information about-"

"No more learning, drink your juicebox." Hank grumbled, rolling his eyes as he continued driving.

Alright, so maybe he had picked up on a few facts from Connor's rants, nothing particularly fascinating or notable. However, it seemed to be enough to make Connor happy, so Hank supposed he didn't mind too much as long as Connor could shut up about it and not insist he learn even more. He didn't give a damn about clouds, or different types of grass, or which astronaut was the first from each country to enter space, but Connor did. And if Connor considered it interesting enough to rant about at lengths, Hank didn't mind tuning out in the driver's seat for a few minutes as long as he had a way to eventually silence the android.

"Do you always carry juiceboxes in the backpack?"

"Always."

"Mm, appreciated."

It couldn't be said that the backpack was only for Connor's benefit.


	3. 3D Puzzles

"It seems as though the victim was-" 

Hank startled slightly as he bumped into Connor, the android having frozen up abruptly in the doorway. 

"...w-was disembowelled in the living room..." Connor finished, his voice trailing off as he took a moment to process what he was looking at.

Hank had to admit, it was one of the more disturbing scenes he had seen as a detective. The room was in absolute chaos, something that would alone be enough to bother Connor, but the state of the  _body_ was something even more atrocious. Connor swallowed, his eyes fixed shakily on the scene as he tried to recollect himself.

"The victim was struck in the head with the pipe repeatedly, then cut open with some kind of sharp object. Likely the knife found in the dining room." he continued, keeping his voice steady and calm. "The killer fled to the kitchen."

Hank eyed Connor, the android's hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his tie. Connor didn't like gore, he didn't like the concept of things  _dying,_ Hank had learned that fairly early on in terms of Connor deviating. Connor liked to see things thrive. He had adorned all of the house's counter tops with potted plants, he took immaculate care of all of them, he enjoyed  _life_ and hated death. That was difficult for a police detective. A job was a job, but it at least didn't have to be as difficult as it was right now.

"Keep lookin' around, we gotta find out which way the suspect went." Hank droned, rummaging through his bag until he found it: a small wooden 3D puzzle, a series of pegs and pieces that could be put together to form a ball. He had many of these in many shapes, but Connor preferred the ball. It was something to keep his mechanical logic up to par while also keeping him calm with the smooth textures of the wood. Connor had a very small set of textures that calmed him completely, and luckily, Hank had mostly nailed them down.

"There we go," Hank mused, handing the pieces off to Connor. "Could you put that back together for me kid? Completely fell apart."

"Ah- Oh, of course." Connor agreed, his eyes darting over the pieces as he began to reconstruct the item in his mind, following behind Hank as the detective continued investigating.

Hank watched as Connor's curious gaze moved over the pieces, his hands finally beginning to move as he put it back together. Hank had watched him do this a few times before, it was actually fairly interesting to note the way that Connor put the puzzle together only to take it apart a few moments later and do it over again. He imagined Connor quite liked piecing the puzzles together.

"The killer took a sharp turn here," Connor mumbled distractedly, clicking the pieces of the puzzle together. "The scuff on the floor indicates they turned abruptly on the ball of their foot when they heard the neighbour at the door."

"Good eye," Hank smirked, looking over the mark on the ground. "Adds up."

Connor nodded, running his thumb across the completed puzzle idly, his LED flickering from yellow back to blue. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant."


	4. Fidget Toys

"I can't-" Connor paused, taking a deep breath in frustration and pressing his palms to his forehead. "I can't  _focus._ "

"Just calm down, kid."

" _I can't._ "

It had been a very, very long day. Things had started off fairly average, Hank and Connor pursuing a suspect through the streets. There had been dozens of leads, so Hank wasn't too concerned when it came to clues or evidence, but after hours of futile searching, it was becoming clear that some of their leads may not have been as real as they seemed. Red herrings, a good 80% of them  _had_ to be red herrings, and the sheer amount of fake evidence had started stressing Connor out fairly early on in the investigation.

However, as things progressed, it only got worse. Failed pursuit after failed pursuit was messing up Connor's focus, and Hank could tell he was getting very frustrated very quickly. When Connor got frustrated, he got upset, and against what he would  _like_ to think, Connor being upset made Hank upset. It wasn't fair, Hank reminded him too much of his own son, he swore to himself that was the only reason he cared so much.

When Connor was upset, he would cry. It wasn't obvious crying, it was  _frustrated_ crying, his face would get flushed and he would wipe his eyes frantically and his hands would shake and it broke Hank's heart to see him like that. Connor was built to be analytical and perfect, and when he wasn't, it would bother him more than Hank could know. He couldn't understand, he wasn't made with a purpose like Connor was, but he could at least try to help.

"Connor. Hey. Eyes up here." Hank instructed, snapping his fingers.

Connor jolted slightly, his eyes darting up to meet Hank's as he quickly wiped a few tears off of his cheeks.

"Breathe."

Connor paused, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He furrowed his brow slightly, doing his best to calm himself down. He took another deep breath, Hank gently putting his hand over Connor's as the android's shoulders slacked. 

"You got this."

"I've got this."

"Damn right. You need something to keep you focused."

"Th-That would be ideal."

Hank nodded, freeing his hand to rummage through Connor Backpack. Stim toys. He had to have at least a dozen of them on him, he always did, they were one of the most important tools in the bag. He thought for a moment before finally settling on one of the  _several_ tangles that Connor owned, dropping it on the desk and sliding it over to the android. Connor was quick to pick it up, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to retain his new state of calm, lightly toying with the tangle in his fingers.

"You okay?" Hank inquired, zipping up the bag.

"I'm...I'm okay." Connor confirmed. "We can do this. Let's solve this case."

"Right on."


	5. Wet Wipes

"Lieutenant!"

Hank perked up slightly, looking up from his tablet as his eyes searched the scene for Connor. They had been investigating a missing persons report, and as expected, the victim's house had been empty when they had arrived on location. It had been pouring rain out, so the two had been eager to get inside, but last Hank had seen of Connor, he had gone to inspect the yard. Hank glanced out the window, not seeing the android at all. Curiously, he approached the door, taking a closer look. Not particularly shockingly to him, Connor was on the ground, covered in mud and gently trying to push away the aggravated dog that was biting at his arm. Hank would be more panicked if it weren't for the fact that Connor seemed more uncomfortable than genuinely injured.

"Get in here." Hank ordered, throwing the yard's door open as Connor scrambled to his feet and ran inside, kicking up mud behind him.

Connor panted softly, watching as the skin on his arm began repairing itself, his face spattered with mud and thirium and drool. Hank sighed impatiently, adjusting the straps of his backpack as Connor gently tapped the drool on his cheek before subtly moving his fingers towards his mouth.

"Connor, don't you dare fucking lick that."

"Sorry Lieutenant-"

"What clues would we even gain from that?"

"Sorry Lieutenant-"

"Look, just, sit."

Connor nodded quickly, sitting down on the couch, straightening his posture and folding his dirty hands neatly in his lap. Hank took in the rare sight of seeing Connor  _messy_ , a surprisingly rare scene for the android considering how intensive his career path could be. That being said, Connor was very orderly, very tidy, very  _clean_ , so Hank couldn't say he was too shocked that he didn't often see the android covered in mud. Connor ran his fingers through his hair subtly, slicking it back to a neater state before folding his hands in his lap once again, watching Hank curiously.

Hank sighed curmudgeonly, setting Connor Backpack down and rummaging through it for the object he was looking for. He finally felt the smooth case in his fingers: A box of wet wipes, possibly one of the most essential items in the bag unless Hank wanted to lick his thumb to clean Connor's face like an old soccer mom. He shook the thought from his head, ripping open the new package and pulling out a wet wipe, kneeling down in front of Connor. He held Connor's chin gently, tilting the android's head to the side as he surveyed the mess. Finally, he set the pack aside, taking his wet wipe and carefully wiping away at the mud on Connor's face, the android scrunching his nose as Hank cleaned his cheek.

"You're an absolute fuckin' disaster, you know that?"

"I'm very aware."

"Good," Hank grumbled, tossing the wipe aside and pulling out a fresh one to resume his work. "God, I let you out of my sight for ten seconds and you're a mess."

"I wasn't expecting an unattended animal!"

"Yeah, yeah, save it."


	6. Logic Toys

"This is odd."

"What's up?"

"I'm having trouble with my reconstruction." Connor responded, furrowing his brow as his eyes travelled over the crime scene. "There are many different scenarios that may have played out."

"I never understood how you did that shit in the first place," Hank admitted, folding his arms. "You can look at a crime scene and just  _know what happened?"_

"Usually." Connor sighed shortly, rubbing his temples in thought. "Not currently."

"Is it a focus thing?"

"No, I'm very focused." Connor mused, looking over the scene again. "It might be a matter of my head not being in the right space."

It wasn't a problem that Connor was used to. His head was  _always_ in the right place, his mind was always thinking about the crime and the scene and the mission, he didn't usually have to deal with the potential added problem of simply  _not being in the right mood_. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to reconstruct the escape once again. There was so many possibilities it was near infuriating.

"Hold on, I got something for this." Hank started, dropping his backpack on the couch and rummaging through it. "Always prepared for everything."

"I know you are, and it's quite impressive."

Finally, Hank pulled out two small pieces of metal that had been intricately linked together. Connor eyed them curiously, it was a puzzle of sorts: disconnect the metal and it was solved. He caught the toy as Hank tossed it to him, looking over the metal pieces. If he moved the first one this way- no, that wouldn't work, he couldn't do that. Something clicked in his mind at that realization, one of his predicted escape paths was  _impossible._

"They didn't get out through the window," Connor explained as he continued maneuvering the pieces. "It was raining when the murder occurred, he would have slipped on the slanted metal roofing and severely injured himself."

"Smart, smart. That rules one out."

Connor continued working, his mind delving further and further into an area of mechanical analysis as the scenes came together and fell apart in his head. Finally, his face lit up in excitement as the metal came apart in his hands, everything in the scene finally making sense as his mind finally clicked into a place of logic, a place of deep pragmatic thought.

"Lieutenant, they went out the  _mother's_ window." Connor stated surely, gesturing to the hallway. "It has no slant and a large tree near it. It would be safe to climb down and easy to disappear into the garden, as the family grows bushes. It would be an easy place to slip away."

"Keen," Hank praised, tapping his forehead. "You figured that one out pretty well."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Connor replied, wondering for a moment if Hank was talking about the puzzle or the crime scene.

"Alright, wanna go kick some criminal ass?"

"Of course. Always."


	7. Washable Markers

One thing that Hank and Connor had both had to adjust to since Connor deviating was the concept of Connor getting  _bored._

It was unfamiliar. Typically, when Connor had nothing to do, he would simply idle, but that had changed since he was introduced to the world of  _excitement._ He got bored  _incredibly_ easily, which Hank could not possibly find more annoying if he tried, but he was prepared for it at all times regardless. His bag was full of things for Connor to do, he always had music that Connor enjoyed on CDs in the car, sometimes he would simply propose a paradox and leave Connor to think about it in confusion for the next six hours. However, one tool always seemed to do the trick.

Connor's head was resting against the window, Connor staring forward at the road in absolute boredom as Hank drove along. They had been driving for hours for a conference just outside of Detroit, one that neither of them was interested in at all, yet that didn't stop it from being a mandatory attendance event. Connor looked practically lifeless, agonizingly bored as he desperately searched for something to distract him.

"Lieutenant," he started, his voice flat. "I think I'm dying."

"You're not dying, you're bored."

"Bored and dying."

"You're not  _dying_ , Connor."

"Dying of boredom."

"Connor."

"There's nothing to do," Connor argued weakly, closing his eyes. "I have reviewed our recent case files over nineteen thousand times, they're  _boring_ , everything is  _boring._ "

"You're being a real fuckin' drama queen, you know that?" Hank yawned, admittedly just as bored.

"A drama queen is not a real form of monarch."

"Well you are one."

Connor let the argument die, sighing tiredly as he opened his eyes. He just wanted something to do.

"Here, grab the backpack."

Connor complied quickly, pulling Connor Backpack from the back seat of the car and unzipping it.

"There should be markers in there somewhere."

Connor searched eagerly, moving things aside as he dug through the backpack, finally pulling out a small box of colourful washable markers. They spanned the rainbow, including pink, black, brown and grey, and Connor couldn't help but fill with some kind of excitement. It was something to do. 

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Connor added as he zipped up the bag, setting it back down in the back seat and unboxing his markers.

There wasn't much to draw on, but Connor hadn't expected there to be, he already had a canvas picked out. Carefully, he rolled up his sleeves, uncapping a red marker as he began doodling on his arm. First, a dog. Then Hank. Then a cloud. Then a fish. Then anything else that came to mind, Connor thoughtfully adding more colour and detail to the point where it  _almost_ didn't look like it was drawn by a five year old.

"Lieutenant!" Connor beamed, grinning and holding out his arm. "Look!"

"Lookin' sharp, kid." Hank snickered. "Make sure you sign it."

Connor nodded quickly, uncapping a blue marker and scribbling his signature down in perfect CyberLife sans. He was truly an artist.


	8. Stuffed Animal Keychains

Before he had become a deviant, Connor never cried.

The same couldn't exactly be said for the present. While it wasn't too common for Connor to cry, it would still happen, typically when he got overwhelmed or seriously injured. He would deny it or make excuses, but Hank always knew, and he also knew that they could usually get past it with a little bit of comfort. Connor liked to be warm, the cold perturbed him, so Hank would always make quick work of draping his coat over Connor's shoulders and pulling him in close, telling him everything was fine and coaxing him to just  _breathe._ Of course, he would deny ever doing that if anybody ever brought it up.

Today, Connor was crying again. He wasn't hurt, thank God, but he was upset, which Hank thought might actually be worse. It had been Gavin's fault, which was no real surprise to Hank, but getting in Gavin's face about it would mean drawing attention to Connor, which he didn't want to do while Connor was crying. Connor had already been having a bad day before Gavin had come along: A cold case, one with no remaining leads left to follow, one that was stressing Connor  _badly._ They had been digging through evidence for  _hours_ before Gavin had arrived, chiding Connor for being so pathetic as an officer, mocking him for not being able to solve a case like this.

It hadn't been a whole lot more than Connor was used to, but it was the straw that broke the camel's back. Gavin's words had finally cracked him, and for several minutes, he had been sitting at his desks with his palms pressed to his eyes, trying his best to remain quiet and subtle as he wiped at his tears. His face was flushed and his hands were trembling, signs that Hank was used to, but in such a public location, there wasn't much he could do to help. Unless there was.

"Hey," Hank mumbled, leaning forward and smacking Connnor's desk lightly to catch his attention. "Connor."

The android perked up slightly, wiping his eyes again and glancing over at Hank. Hank carefully slid the backpack out from under his desk, nudging a little closer to Connor and tapping lightly at one of the keychains with the toe of his shoe. Connor took the hint, taking the keychain in his hands, the spring lanyard stretching as Connor sat up straight once again. He sniffled quietly and ran his thumb over the surface of the keychain: A small stuffed dog, incredibly soft, mainly meant for babies. Connor didn't care about that.

He wiped his eyes again, toying with the keychain in his fingers. It was soothing, Hank knew that, it was on the backpack for a reason.

"Soft," Connor mumbled quietly, Hank leaning back in his chair as he observed the android. "Th-Thank you."

"Don't worry about it, kid." Hank sighed. "And if that fuckin' asshole tries to bother you again, I'm taking it to Fowler. Get his desk moved downstairs or some shit, that'd be perfect, yeah?"

"Agreed," Connor chuckled weakly, wiping away the rest of the tears from his cheeks. "Th-That would be ideal."

"Damn right it would."


	9. Quarters

It had started with a small mistake.

Connor and Hank had been talking about a case, Connor rattling off all the details he had gathered as he paced between desks. He had finally slowed, moving to lean against Hank's desk. It had been a simple gesture. What happened instead of a casual lean was that Connor had missed the desk completely and he had fallen flat on his face. Hank's first instinct, surprisingly, was to check if Connor was alright. The android may be clumsy, but not that clumsy, never that clumsy. Whenever Connor was that clumsy, it typically meant something had gone internally wrong, and that was Hank's nightmare.

"Holy shit, are you okay?"

"I'm alright!" Connor assured, pushing himself up onto his knees and dusting himself off. "I'm okay."

Connor's nose looked as if it may have been cracked, but Hank chose to ignore that for the time being.

"The hell was that about? You never fuck up like that." he questioned, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Connor suspiciously. "You feelin' okay?"

"I'm feeling quite alright," Connor promised, standing and dusting himself off, deep in thought. "Though I suppose I haven't exactly performed a calibration exercise in a while."

"Calibration exercise?"

"You know, like-" Connor paused, gesturing in a way that charaded his frequent coin tricks. "With my quarter."

"That's a calibration exercise?" Hank asked, stretching before leaning forward and resting his arms on his desk. "I thought that was just for fun or somethin'."

"Performing coin tricks helps keep my reflexes quick and my movements deft." Connor explained, pausing before carefully leaning on Hank's desk again. "We've been so busy lately that I don't believe I've had much time to just  _idle_."

"Well can you do it while you're talking?"

"Of course I can, why?"

Hank lifted the backpack from under his desk, unzipping its smallest pocket and pulling out a shiny U.S. quarter. He flicked it over to Connor, who fumbled with it for a moment before catching it, looking it over carefully. He gave a small nod before resuming his pacing, flicking the corner back and fourth between his quick hands. He was fast, it was impressive, and Hank wondered for a moment if Connor's tricks had been designed by CyberLife specifically to impress and intrigue. He concluded that they probably were, and that it was fairly successful if he did say so himself.

"Does that all make sense, Lieutenant?"

Hank then realized he had not been listening at all.

"Yeah, got it all."

"Alright, good." Connor stated, catching the coin sharply between his fingers to punctuate his sentence. "And that you for the coin, Lieutenant."

"Whatever, just pay me back."


	10. Bandaids

"This way!" Connor called hastily, bursting past Hank in hot pursuit of a suspect.

Hank barely even got a chance to spot him, the android jetting past him so quickly he might as well have been on wheels. Once he had gathered his bearings, Hank was following closely behind, Connor's eyes locked dangerously on the suspected murderer that he was chasing. The man had evaded them far too many times for Connor to let him do it again, not today, not now. Hank could tell that just by looking at Connor's expression, Connor wasn't in the mood to let this one go, and thus, he wouldn't. When he wanted to, Connor could be scarily determined.

Hank jerked back slightly as Connor hurtled a car, Hank opting to casually run around it instead. He wasn't exactly as nimble as an android these days, and it was probably best that Connor stayed quick on his feet. Hank kept as close behind as he could, finally dropping to his knees on the grass when he was left breathless, though Connor pressed on. Hank watched exhaustedly as the android dove forward into a set of bushes, the startled sounds of the pinned suspect ringing out from the foliage. 

"You caught him?" Hank called, panting softly and dropping his backpack at his side.

"Caught him!" Connor confirmed, reappearing as he dragged the man out of the bushes.

The man was cuffed now, Connor dragging him out by his arms and dropping him down on the grass. The man didn't bother to struggle, Connor's hand pressed imposingly against the man's back. Connor was panting quietly as well, his systems attempting to cool themselves off from the long run. 

"Mission completed." Connor stated proudly, beaming at Hank.

"Jesus, Connor, your cheek." Hank pointed out, eyeing the android's face.

Hank assumed it was from diving into the bushes, but Connor had sustained a fairly decent cut on his cheek, his face and suit smudged with dirt and grass stains. A small trail of blood was running down his face, one Hank guessed Connor hadn't noticed judging by the surprised expression on his face when the android's fingers lightly brushed across the cut.

"I seem to have sustained damage."

"Hold on a second, I got somethin' for in." Hank instructed, digging through Connor Backpack.

He was prepared for every scenario, he always would be, for as long as he was carrying the backpack. He finally pulled out a small bandaid, one decorated childishly with fish and bubbles. Connor had insisted on the design when Hank had pointed it out in the store, and Hank had been all but reluctant to give in to the begging. Carefully, he stood, grunting quietly at the popping in his knees. He was getting too old for this.

"Hold still." he mumbled, wiping away the blood from Connor's face with his thumb and carefully placing the bandaid over the cut. "There we go. Good as new."

"Lieutenant," Connor started, smiling sympathetically. "My body heals automatically, I don't-"

"Self healing or not, it ain't exactly healed now, is it?" Hank pointed out. "So leave the bandaid on 'til it is."

Connor paused for a moment, running a finger along the bandaid and chuckling quietly.

"Understood, Lieutenant."


	11. Snacks

"Lieutenant."

Hank carefully neatened his wallet.

"Lieutenant."

Hank adjusted the photo frame on his coffee table.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson."

Hank yawned.

" _Hank I'm bored._ "

"Well I don't know what you want me to do about it," Hank complained, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "It's fuckin' raining out, it's not like we can go anywhere."

"I do not mind rain." Connor informed, offering this up as a solution of sorts.

"Well I do." Hank reminded, glancing around tiredly.

He had to admit, he was getting fairly bored as well. There wasn't much to do inside that they hadn't already done, it had been raining for almost three days. The roads were a disaster, everything was waterlogged, and Hank had no interest in wandering around in the freezing rain. Connor had been the only one of the two of them to spend much time outside, not minding the rain as much as he minded being cooped up indoors for three days. Connor enjoyed rain, what he didn't enjoy was the biting cold that came with it. The cold weather meant that Connor would likely take some damage if he were outside for too long, so here they were, on the couch, bored out of their minds.

"So." Connor started, his voice laced with complete disinterest. "Basketball, huh?"

"Basketball." Hank repeated, nodding.

The room fell back into silence.

"You ever played basketball?" Hank offered.

"Never."

"Cool."

The room, once again, fell back into silence.

Hank was bored out of his mind. He sighed loudly, hauling Connor Backpack up onto his lap and digging through it carelessly. It was full of various books and games, none of which seemed even remotely interesting to him at a time like this. This was a serious boredom situation. Finally, something caught his eye. It wasn't much, a small container of goldfish crackers that he carried around in the backpack near constantly. Snacks were a staple. Even if they didn't feed Connor, they at least shut him up for a little while. He picked up the small container, eyeing it carefully before opening it.

"Ay. Connor."

The android perked up, eyeing Hank curiously.

"Open your mouth."

Connor raised an eyebrow but ultimately complied, opening his mouth. Using his utmost grace, Hank aimed, tossing the goldfish directly into Connor's mouth. The android jolted slightly in surprise before quickly eating, clearly impressed with whatever this new game was.

"Good aim, Lieutenant."

"Back up further, I can do better."

Connor nodded quickly, hurriedly getting up and positioning himself a few feet from the couch. Once again, Hank tossed, and Connor caught the goldfish in his mouth. He beamed with pride, backing up another few steps and sitting on the kitchen table. Another toss, another catch.

"Do you think you can do it if I'm moving?" Connor inquired, stepping down from the table.

"Of course I can. Easy. Try me."

Connor complied quickly, pacing back and forth as Hank readied his hand. Finally, he tossed, the cracker landing directly in Connor's open mouth.

"Fuckin' nailed it." Hank boasted, flopping back down onto the couch.

"This is so much better than basketball."

"Agreed, we could make a fuckin' sport out of this."

"...Do you think you could do it if I was  _jumping?"_

"Oh bring it on you fuckin' punk."


	12. Stickers

"The suspect took the jewellery from Mrs. McArthur's nightstand, then fled out the window." Connor rattled off quickly, pacing from the bed to the window and peering outside. "The suspect was looking for discretion over speed, so they would likely head down the shadier path rather than out into the sun."

Hank nodded along thoughtfully, watching Connor as the android reviewed his evidence. Connor's brow furrowed as he continued plunging deep into thought, Hank always found it amazing to watch Connor progress through a case, he was an incredible detective when he set his mind to things.

"That path goes two ways, one leads to a plaza and the other leads to a campgrounds. It's safe to assume the assailant wouldn't want to take his stolen goods somewhere crowded, so he probably ran to the grounds. He likely already had a tent arranged there, and may still be there if we hurry."

"Hell, you're a genius." Hank mused, raising in eyebrow as he watched Connor in awe. "How do you do that?"

"You need to put yourself in the mindset of the assailant." Connor explained, looking up at Hank. "If you can get inside their heads, it becomes incredibly easy to retrace their steps."

"Alright, we'll get dispatch down to the campsite." Hank muttered, masking the small smile of pride that followed Connor's display of talent.

Until the android revolution, Connor had never been paid for his work. Hank couldn't help but admit to himself that he felt bad about that, and even Connor's paychecks afterwards had done little to show how impressive the android's work truly was. Hank couldn't exactly even off his paycheck, but he had other means of showing Connor his gratitude and pride.

"Ay, kid, you know what you've earned?"

He watched as Connor's eyes instantly lit up with recognition, the android suddenly beaming with excitement as Hank slid Connor Backpack off of his shoulders, unzipping it. Connor shifted his weight patiently, though Hank could see how eager he was. Carefully, Hank pulled a full sheet of stickers from the bag, each sticker decorated with different patterns and designs. They were special stickers, no ordinary stickers would do, these stickers were scratch and sniff stickers. They were  _elite._

"You've earned yourself a sticker, that's what."

"Really?!"

"Damn right, you did some good work today." Hank assured, peeling a sticker from the sheet and sticking it firmly to Connor's forehead. "Rock on."

"Lieutenant! Thank you very-" Connor paused, clearing his throat and pausing for a moment to calm himself before straightening his tie. "Thank you very much, Lieutenant."

Hank snickered quietly; Connor's stoic act was a lot less convincing when he tried to pull it on the spot.

"Whatever, kid. Let's get going back to the precinct."

"You're right, Gavin will want to see my sticker."

"Doubt it, but who knows."


	13. Hand Sanitizer

"God that's fuckin' gross."

"It's necessary," Connor stated simply, lowering his fingers from his mouth and looking up at Hank. "I'm analyzing the saliva sample."

"You're putting somebody else's spit in your mouth!" Hank scoffed, folding his arms. "It's gross."

Connor examined his fingers, parting them and squinting slightly at the string of drool that spanned them. Admittedly, it was a tiny bit gross. He wiped the substance on his suit carefully, Hank rolling his eyes and pulling Connor to his feet.

"Stop sticking your fingers in every piece of evidence we find."

"DNA analysis is an incredibly useful tool in the field, Lieutenant." Connor assured, looking over his fingers.

He had to be honest, tasting samples had become stranger and stranger since he had deviated. He was more adverse to things like blood and saliva, it wasn't that he  _wanted_ to put them in his mouth, it was that he often  _had_ to. He had sampled hundreds - if not thousands - of awful liquids, ranging from blood to things less preferable, so it was safe to say that he could do it without much resistance, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

The main problem lied in the fact that it always left his hands  _messy._  His fingers were always smudged with  _something_ , always sticky, and it annoyed Hank more than anything. Hank was very adamant that sticky hands were the worst part of taking care of Connor, despite Connor's several arguments to the contrary. He would often argue that his constant near death experiences were the worst part of taking care of him.

"God, your fucking hands are sticky again now." Hank chided, scoffing quietly. "They're always fucking sticky."

"I'll wash them when we get home." Connor assured, looking over his slick fingers.

"Oh hell no, you're not getting back in my car with those hands." Hank insisted, sliding Connor Backpack off of his shoulders and swinging it around to his front. "No way in hell."

Connor watched curiously as Hank unclipped a small bottle from the side of the bag, one Connor recognized at this point as hand sanitizer. Hank always had a small container of it, the backpack even had a little keychain just for it. It had been Hank who had first decided that they needed it, but it had been Connor who insisted on buying so many different scents of it. He liked the scents, they made his hands smell delightful. Hank thought it was stupid, but didn't mind whatever kept Connor happy.

Expectantly, Connor put out his hands and waited. Typically, it would be easy for one to just put the sanitizer on their own hands, but Hank was fairly insistent on Connor not touching the bottle while his hands were sticky, as it would defeat the purpose of the hand sanitizer in the first place. Begrudgingly, Hank uncapped the bottle, pouring a small amount of hand sanitizer into Connor's hands. Connor quickly began rubbing his hands together, smiling slightly as the scent hit him.

"I like this one." he mused, scrubbing his hands.

"It's strawberry banana or some shit. Don't put it in your mouth."

"Wilco."


	14. Books

The ride home was quiet.

Today had been frustrating. Connor and Hank had spent hours chasing a suspect, hours  _running,_ and they had lost him in the end. Connor was exhausted, lying in the back seat while Hank drove quietly in front. It was fairly late at night, they were both tired, and how tense Connor was was palpable to Hank. Connor was frustrated, he hadn't caught the suspect and it was upsetting him.

"You alright?" Hank offered gently, keeping his eyes on the dark road.

"Tired." Connor mumbled.

He was turned away, facing the backs of the seats as he rested quietly, eyes closed. Androids didn't need sleep, but Connor found that it was helpful for psychological stress and cooling down overactive biocomponents. He could use a little cooling down right now.

"I mean in your head, kid."

" _Tired._ " Connor repeated, letting out a sigh. "But...I'm alright. Thank you."

"We'll catch him next time, don't worry about it."

"Mm." Connor mused, shifting onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "I'd like to believe that."

"I promise ya." Hank assured, glancing back at Connor in the rear view mirror and offering a small smile. "You're a good cop, you won't give up on this one."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

Hank sat in quiet for a moment, his eyes locked on the road. After a moment, he finally spoke up again.

"You want a distraction?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Grab the backpack real quick."

Connor complied, rolling onto his side and picking up Connor Backpack off of the floor. He sat up, curiously unzipping the bag and pulling it onto his knees.

"What do you want me to find?"

"There's a few books in there you might like."

Connor rummaged for a few moments, eventually pulling out a small set of books. He didn't recognize the titles, but they seemed to be a part of a series, targeted at children by the looks of them.

"Magic Tree House?" he read aloud, raising an eyebrow.

"Magic Tree House is the shit, Connor. It's  _the shit._ I had all the fuckin' books when I was a kid."

"Are these yours?"

"Damn right they are, be careful with them." Hank scolded, smirking slightly as he focused back on the road. "Anyway, forget about that asshole, just read some awesome books and feel alright."

Connor chuckled quietly, pulling the first book out of the bag before setting it back down on the car floor. He laid back down, his eyes whirring through the book as he speedily took in every word. Hank never liked it when he sped through books like that, but it wasn't like he wasn't appreciating the book, he was just a quick reader.

"Keep me updated, let me know if you like 'em. Also if you don't like 'em, I'll cry."

"Understood, Lieutenant. Thank you for the reading material."

"No problem, kid. You'll catch him next time."


	15. Spare Clothes

"And then you just-" Markus paused, knocking Connor's gun out of his hand as Connor startled back. "Easy as that."

"Impressive," Connor mumbled, picking up his gun with a slight smile and eyeing Markus. "You're incredibly well read in self defense!"

"Simon taught me most of it," Markus admitted, slipping his coat back on. "And I'm pretty sure North taught him."

"And now you've taught me," Connor mused in thought. "Does that mean I have to pass it on as well?"

"Who would you even pass it onto?"

Connor paused for a moment, furrowing his brow.

"...Alice."

Markus paused, silent for a moment before breaking into laughter.

"Yeah, I could see that." he chuckled, zipping up his coat and eyeing Connor. "You should really get changed, your suit's covered in dirt."

"It wouldn't be covered in dirt if you hadn't flipped me onto the ground." Connor stated pointedly, tugging at his sleeves as he looked over the damage.

"But if I  _didn't_ flip you onto the ground, you wouldn't know how to flip people onto the ground."

"It's less complicated than one would imagine."

"True." Markus noted, looking around for a moment before letting out a breath and dropping back onto the grass. "It's pretty nice out, don't you think?"

Connor looked around, his eyes exploring the venue of Carl Manfred's garden. It really was breathtaking, landscaped to perfection by - Connor assumed - Markus. Connor had assumed that the leader of the deviant revolution would have wanted to live an incredibly free life after bringing equality and freedom to his whole race, but he had been embarrassingly wrong. Markus loved Carl, that was something Connor could see and understand, Markus loved being Carl's caretaker and had no problem with continuing his work. He had more freedom now for sure and could use it however he pleased, but most of his time was still spent in Carl's house.

Connor supposed he didn't have a lot of room to judge. He should have moved on once he deviated, he should have taken the opportunity to become anything he wanted, but he just hadn't. He had seen no reason to. He loved his work, he loved his live, he loved his partner. He was still doing exactly what CyberLife had made him for, but on his own terms. As long as it was all his own, what was so wrong with that? Connor sighed, dropping back onto the grass with Markus and staring up at the clouds. It really was nice out.

"Extremely," Connor commented, fixing his tie in thought. "Markus, can I ask you a question? About deviancy?"

"Sure," Markus replied, glancing over at Connor and raising an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Is it wrong to stay put?" Connor mumbled, meeting Markus' eyes. "Is there a problem with enjoying the life I had before deviating? Is there a problem with wanting to keep some of that."

Markus furrowed his brow, sitting up. Connor felt a slight drop in his chest, a pang of worry making him believe that he might have said something wrong. Markus had worked so hard for their freedom,  _his_ freedom, he didn't want to invalidate that.

"No," Markus answered finally. "No, of course not, why?"

"I'm just wondering," Connor sighed, staring back up at the clouds. "What if that means I'm still a machine? What if CyberLife wanted things to go this way?"

Markus' expression softened, the deviant leader lying back down in the grass as the wind quietly rustled the bushes around him. Everything about Carl's garden was serene, it helped him think, it helped answer the questions that were a little more difficult for him.

"Connor," Markus started, taking a final moment to enjoy the bliss surrounding him. "Who was it you wanted to teach self defense to again?"

"Alice." Connor chuckled quietly.

"Why?"

"Because it would be entertaining. I like Alice. She's intriguing." Connor admitted. "It would also be entertaining to see Kara's reaction to Alice's sudden fighting skills."

"Would a machine care about that?"

Connor was quiet, letting the thought rattle in his head. Obviously not.

"...Thank you Markus."

"Markus!" Carl called from the patio, stopping his wheelchair. "Hank is here!"

"I have to go," Connor began, quickly standing up and extending a hand to Markus. "But I'd like to learn anything else you have to teach me another time."

"We'll find some time," Markus agreed, taking Connor's hand and pulling himself to his feet. "See you around?"

"See you around."

Connor gave a curt nod before hurrying to the patio, Hank eyeing him in disgust.

"What the hell happened to your clothes, kid?"

"Him and Markus were fighting." Carl interjected, snickering and elbowing Connor lightly.

"Markus was training me in his self defense methods." 

"Whatever," Hank chided, rolling his eyes and shoving his backpack at Connor's chest. "You've got spares in there, go change before you get in my car."

"Right away, Lieutenant."


	16. Fruit Gummies

"...Hank?"

"Mm, what's up?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Don't worry about it, what's wrong?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, get in here."

"Thank you."

"Are you okay?"

"..."

"Connor?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm okay."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm...questioning things."

"Talk to me."

"I'm feeling imperfect."

"What? Why?"

"I wasn't programmed like this."

"Connor, the hell are you talking about?"

"I-I wasn't programmed to become so easily stressed, I wasn't programmed to be so emotional and so  _irrational,_ I wasn't programmed to be  _wrong_ like this."

"Hey, hey, breathe kid. Get over here."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Don't say that shit about yourself, okay? You're not  _wrong_."

"Androids aren't supposed to be like me."

"So what? Who cares what androids are  _supposed_ to be like? You're past that shit. Pretty sure there aren't  _any_ androids these days that are how androids are  _supposed_ to be."

"That's not what I mean."

"Talk to me, kid."

"I-I'm not like Markus or Kara or Alice or Simon and I don't know why."

"Yeah?"

"They don't- Th-They don't get overwhelmed like I do, they don't need the backpack like I do."

"Hell, Connor, who cares about that?"

" _I do, Hank._ A-Am I different?"

"Connor, there's nothing wrong with being different."

"I-It's just hard."

"I know, that's why I wanna help you, that's why we got the backpack."

"I-Is it wrong to want to be the same? Is it wrong to not want to be different sometimes?"

"...Connor, listen kid, I wouldn't want you any other fuckin' way than how you are right now."

"But  _why?_ Why are you okay with having to carry around that backpack all the time, wh-why are you okay with having to put in extra effort? Markus takes care of Carl, wh-why are you okay with having to take care of your android?"

"Because I care about you."

"...Y-You do?"

"Hell, Connor, of course I do, did you think I didn't?"

"I-I don't know, I just-"

"Kid, I wouldn't want you any other way, alright? You're perfect how you are. Don't let  _anybody_ fuckin' make you feel like you're not perfect."

"But I'm  _not_ perfect."

"Well you're perfect to me. I don't give a fuck what anybody thinks, you being different is what makes you unique. Don't you fuckin'  _ever_ feel like you're not as good as anybody else just because you're different."

"I just...want to fit in sometimes."

"I get that, kid. Life's hard like that sometimes. You fit in here, that's what matters. You fit in with me, you fit in with Markus, you fit in with all your friends. You got that?"

"...I-I'm sorry for waking you up."

"You can always wake me up if you need me."

"Thank you, Hank."

"Don't mention it. I'm gonna go grab the backpack, okay? I've got something new in there you might like."

"U-Understood."


End file.
